Fledgling of Masyaf
by LunaShadowWolf13
Summary: The Apple has some... Hidden properties that Altair didn't account for. Of course, it is his first time with the relic, so mistakes are bound to be made. But still... What is Malik going to do with a child? Get into trouble, that's what! Slightly AU, Altair has the Apple and there's no mention of Al Mualim. Set in the bureau in Jerusalem.
1. Intruder!

**A/N- So… I decided there weren't enough AC fics. I decided to rectify that xD**

**Enjoy!**

Malik was not impressed when the warning bells of the city went off. He glanced up irritably from his maps, resisting the urge to groan. The alarms meant that that infernal novice would be back again, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to deal with him at the moment. A week of the man sleeping in the bureau and reporting when he had new information was enough to drive a sane man to drinking, and Malik never really liked the idea of becoming dependent on that foul smelling alcohol.

Eventually, the bells faded off and the sounds of running feet became nonexistent. Blinking, the _dai_ looked up when the minutes ticked by with no sign of Altaïr. He would never admit it to anyone, but a thrill of concern sent goose bumps down his back, arching his spine. Altaïr was always there before the search was completely called off. This… This wasn't right. This was unusual, and he just knew that something had happened.

All of a sudden, his eyes were drawn to the small cushioned area as a thump resounded from inside. A sense of relief washed over him. Of course Altaïr would be alright. He was too stubborn to die, or even be injured too seriously.

...But no one came through. Malik's heart leapt in his throat. Was it Altaïr? Was he injured? Or was it a guard trying to catch him unawares? There were no other novices in the city except for one, and he knew that the same would not be around as he had been there not even an hour later, and had needed to go to the far end of the city. It was one of the reasons Jerusalem irked the _dai_. If one of the men had not escaped unscathed in the other districts, it would be hard to get back to him in time before anything drastic happened. Of course, that was only one of the many reasons for his dislike of the city.

Carefully, instilling the assassin instincts he still held close to heart, Malik picked up a short sword from behind the counter. On silent feet he padded to the entrance of the retreat. There seemed to be no one immediately lurking in the doorway, of that he was relieved, but he was not fully satisfied. Adrenaline began to pump in his veins as he stepped the rest of the way in.

His gaze swept the retreat. And that was when he saw it.

In the farthest corner, a heap of material and pale skin was curled into a tight little ball, a soft gold glow emanating from behind a scrawny back. Malik gave a start. It came as a shock to see that it was a young child. Blinking in confusion, the _dai_ came closer. The little body shifted a little, and then rolled over. Bright amber eyes peered up at him, frightened, brows lifting in alarm. It appeared the child had not accounted on being heard. Perhaps he had sought shelter or something to that effect, seeing as night was beginning to draw near, throwing them into shadows.

Hair so light brown it almost appeared blond was cropped close to the boy's skull, and he ran a nervous hand through it as he sat up. A streak of red told of a cut along his cheek. Malik, meanwhile, was dumbfounded. He couldn't move for a very long time, and when he did, he took very slow and deliberate steps forward. As surprised as he was, he didn't want to scare the child any more than he already was.

The _dai_ knelt in front of the boy. He in turn scrambled away, back hitting the wall hard. "No, no," Malik hurriedly assured, setting down the short sword. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." If anything, those honeyed eyes widened more. It was as though that was not an answer he was expecting. But that was the answer Malik was giving. "Now, can you tell me if you are hurt any more than that?" he waved his hand at the cut on his cheek. Something flashed a brief moment of recognition in his mind, but the _dai_ was unable to hold onto it before it was gone in a flash.

He scowled lightly at the flinch and shake of the boy's head. Immediately, his mind jumped to the thought of his partial limb. Was the boy frightened by that? It was highly likely. More often than not he'd heard rumors of himself drifting across the crowds and how he had been 'cursed by the devil and shunned by Allah'. The words hurt, but his pride made him too stubborn to admit to that. Huffing a breath out, Malik stood and retrieved a cloth. He wet it in one of the fountains and returned to the child. Ignoring the too-loose clothes he leaned forward and gently took the cloth over the cut. The boy gasped, but the _dai_ didn't care in the slightest.

"You need that cleaned. Otherwise it won't heal even and will scar. And unless you want to look like an idiotic novice, then I'm sure you don't want that." He was surprised as the boy's eyes flared for a moment, and the gentle glow of the metal ball in his hands increased along with it. Malik frowned. Pulling away, he looked down at the trinket. "What's this?" he more demanded than asked, reaching for it. The child yanked his hands back, but then, after a moment's hesitation, the glow dimmed and he held out the sphere for the _dai_ to inspect.

The moment Malik took the ball and the child let go of it, the golden light dimmed until it seemed like a simple trinket. His brow rose. Was it a trick toy?

Whether it was or not, he didn't particularly care at the moment. Setting it aside, he took a closer look at the boy. There was something off about his clothes. They looked as though they should be more of adult things, drowning his small frame. And the fabric… Malik reached forward. The child shrunk back but he only grabbed the hem of the cut cloth, rubbing it between his fingers. His eyes widened. Pulling it up, the boy disappearing behind it, he recognized it.

Altaïr's robes.

He felt anger and worry rise up in his chest, threatening to strangle him. "What are you doing with these?" he growled out. He seemed to swell and grow bigger, threatening, menacing. The child cowered under his gaze, shrinking in relativity to him. Fear flashed through earnest amber eyes.

"I… I-I… Malik… It's m-me. A-Altaïr…"

**A/N- Please review!**

**~L~**


	2. In Which Malik Needs To Stop Sighing

**A/N- I realize these are really short chapters, but I'm just getting back into the swing of writing fics. Thank you for all the reviews!**

**Enjoy!**

No one said anything. Absolute silence rang in the retreat, and it seemed not even the wind dared to breathe. Yet, even though he went to break the silence, Malik was not the one who did.

"I'm sorry!" Altaïr cried, shaking in fear. "I didn't mean to! I-it just happened! I got the Apple, a-and, and…! And I almost got killed, but then this thing did this to me! I-I didn't… I didn't know where to go…!"

The _dai_ idly wondered why he was so scared. But that was quickly apparent by the fact he registered the anger that must surely be displaying in a furious way across his features. He could almost imagine his own brows pushed together and down, eyes narrowed to slits, and mouth set in a small white line. Of course he would be frightened. After such an accident, and now his mind most likely reverted back to the simple linear thinking of a child, it was amazing he did not immediately start crying.

His thumb and forefinger found the bridge of his nose, rubbing. He sighed, eyes closed for a moment. What was he supposed to do with a _child?_

Once again, that tentative, quiet voice filtered to his ears. "...Malik?" The familiar voice. That was where the recognition had come from. It had touched the memories of his childhood. They were painful for him now, filled with Altaïr and Kadar before that wretched Solomon's Temple. "Malik, I…"

Before the boy could say another word, the _dai_ shook his head and held out his hand, letting go of his nose. "No. Don't apologize. As long as you didn't do anything stupid to cause it to change you into… _This_, then there's nothing that's your fault."

"No, but… I came here."

And then he remembered.

_ "Altaïr!" I called desperately. Fear was growing in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't seen my best friend for nearly two days, after a stupid dare. Sneak into the Templar camp, I said. Steal a flag, I said. And now, I feared the worst._

_ In all honesty, I felt like crying. I had not cried, not for a long time. Not since Altaï had tried to help me, only to get a scar across his lip in punishment. Now, though, the stinging was back in in the corners of my eyes. "Altaïr!" I screamed again into the desert. I didn't care if the people of the village heard my anguished cries. All I wanted was my friend back._

_ Finally, as the sun began to rise of that third wretched day without Altaïr, I headed back. My head hung low and my cowl covered my eyes, my red red eyes, swollen and bloodshot. Allah forgive me for what I have done…_

_ I could feel my bottom lip tremble as I pushed my way into my quarters. Kadar was not there. It made me both glad and angry. Glad that he wouldn't see me cry, but also angry that he was not there to comfort me, even if I was the older brother. The stronger one. I didn't feel so strong in that moment._

_ I took all of five steps into my room before my eyes caught on something. Red and white, some cloth, some blood and skin. Before the figure on my bed could say anything I ran over, hand up to silence him as his mouth opened._

_ "Altaïr! You're alive! Don't apologize; you're not dead! I'm sorry I sent you there! It was foolish, and all my fault. So don't say it was!"_

_ His answer was a funny one, but for some reason, I knew I wouldn't forget it._

_ "No, but… I came here."_

_ "...You idiot."_

_ And we hugged._

Malik shook his head to rid himself of the memory. Now was not the time to be reminiscing of times past. And yet, his answer came through just the same. "You idiot."

A breath left his lips. The _dai_ drug his hand over his face and stood. Altaïr's eyes followed, growing just a little bit wider. And yet, Malik was unable to decipher exactly what he was thinking. It was one of the things that irked him about the man. Those gold eyes never told of anything he didn't want to be shared, and it made it rather difficult at times to do anything for or because of him. There just simply wasn't a reason, and Altaïr did it on purpose.

"I'm just going to get a shirt for you to wear until I can go out and get something better. And some disinfectant for that cut. You're lucky you got away with only that, novice. Be prepared to tell me exactly what happened when I get back. Understand?" The boy's head bobbed quickly with assent.

He went back into the main room of the bureau, completely lost as to how to handle this situation. It seemed so odd, and he was at a loss. What was he going to do with a child? A child _Altaïr,_ no less?

Malik wouldn't admit to it, but he didn't want to deal with this. He didn't want to have to look upon the face he had grown up with and know that the spirit inside was the same one who had killed his brother and taken away his arm. _Kadar…_ The _dai_ groaned softly to himself. _Kadar… What am I going to do? _

Suddenly, Altaïr poked his head in the entrance. "Malik…?" he called, hesitant, uncertain as to whether this was a good idea or not. The _dai_ glanced over and scowled, his brows drawing together. There was a strange sense of satisfaction that came from Altaïr shying away just the littlest bit.

"Didn't I tell you to stay and wait?" he growled. The assassin clutched his baggy clothes just a little tighter. They weren't really on him, just barely clinging to his bony shoulders and covering him like a giant quilt would- but with awkward shape to it. Hair ruffled and little beads of blood still dripping from his pale and dirty cheek, he was indeed a poor sight to behold. His big amber eyes pleaded for understanding, and Malik found himself in an internal conflict over whether or not to give in.

In the end, he couldn't stand it and his glare bled away. He sighed softly, turning to face the boy. "What is it now?"

"...I'm hungry." His voice was quiet and careful, as though walking on eggshells. He knew Malik's explosive behavior by heart, and it was clear just how desperately he was hoping to avoid it. The _dai_ wasn't surprised. In his state, he couldn't fight back. He would have no chance of self-defense, except for perhaps getting out and escaping into the city. But for some reason, he didn't think that in the least bit likely.

Malik stopped himself before he sighed again. If he wasn't careful, he'd run out of breath by the time this whole thing was over with.

**A/N- Not much of the cliffhanger that I'm famous for in the Merlin fandom, but hopefully it will still keep your interest! Next chapter we start getting into Malik dealing with Altair, and Altair turning into a bit of a little shit.**

**Please review!**

**~L~**


	3. Not That Memory

**A/N- Yay! I'm back! I have to say, this is the fastest I've been able to update in a very long time! Lucky for you guys, I've found an app on my phone I can write and then send to myself, and that means, since I'm always on my phone, I can turn chapters out very quickly!**

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews! It makes me very happy and motivated every time I read one!**

**Enjoy!**

Once Altaïr had on a shirt (looking more like a nightgown on him) and had devoured almost a whole basket of fruit, he wasn't quite as afraid as he was before. In fact, he was rather cross with the Apple, turning it over in his hands and grunting in frustration. It wasn't glowing any more, no matter which of them touched it. And to be perfectly honest, Altaïr had been extremely close to throwing the trinket across the room. He didn't, though. It might have destroyed his way to change back.

It was still hard for Malik to believe what had happened. Sure, it had only been a few hours, but he found it tiresome to keep an eyes on Altaïr. The boy was a great ball of energy, flitting from one side of the bureau to the other, and he frowned every time he came near to any object that could break.

With a soft growl to himself he watched the boy run to the wall, step up it, then turn mid way and jump off, landing out in a roll. Altaïr couldn't hold still. Just like when he was an actual child. Now, though, he was using the free running techniques to settle his body. The only problem? It was ticking Malik off.

In a split second, so fast he wasn't sure he even caught it, the _dai_ saw his attention suddenly shift. Gold eyes sharpened and Altaïr stride over, coming tight in front of the part of the counter Malik had piled the other assassin's weapons for when he changed back. He slipped the sword free and started moving through a few motions of training.

Alarm bells rang in his head. No, no, no. A child with a sword? Not safe at all! Malik stood from his stool from where he'd been reading assassin scrolls to try and find an answer. His eyes watched the blade throw Altaïr about, movements clumsy and uncoordinated. His mouth was open at the same time he stride from around the barrier. "Novice! What are you doing?! That's not something to play with! You of all people should know that!"

The boy jolted and glanced up, his eyes wide. He lowered the tip of the weapon to the floor, letting it rest heavily in his palm. "I'm being careful!"

"I don't care if you're being careful! You're presently too young to _touch_ that thing, much less _wield_ it!"

The boy bristled. "I'm an Assassin! I'm not stupid!"

"Are you sure about that?"

Malik's brow raised and he felt a trickle of anger bleed away as he heard a childish growl from Altaïr's lips. He let go of the sword and let it clatter to the ground, his hands clenching into fists. He even stamped his foot. "I'm not stupid!" he repeated, as though that would convince Malik otherwise.

The_ dai's_ brow raised. Was... Was Altaïr, the great Eagle of Masyaf, master assassin... throwing a _tantrum?_

A laugh threatened to explode from it. What a ridiculous idea! Surely it was not what it seemed! And yet there he was, stomping and glaring at him. "I'm not! I'm not, I'm not, I'm not!"

Before he could stop it, a snort slipped past his lips. The boy blinked and looked up at him for a moment. The _dai_, now unable to hold it in any longer, started laughing, doubling over with his arm over his stomach. He could practically feel the confusion and anger radiating off the of the boy. Confusion, no doubt, as he didn't laugh much these days. And anger, because _dammit_, he was an _Assassin_ and _no one_ should laugh at him!

Malik didn't notice the boy move until small fists beat against his thighs, demanding attention. "Stop it! Don't laugh at me! You're being mean!"

His brows immediately rose at that. "Me? I'm being mean?" He quelled the last of his laughter and bent down, grasped the back of his shirt, and lifted Altaïr a few inches off the ground with no difficulty at all. "Idiot. If you play with that thing, you're going to cut yourself, or knock something to the ground and destroy it! I know what I'm doing here. You're not only a novice, but a child now too, and so you listen to your superiors and your elders! Got it?"

Altaïr struggled, squirming in his grasp. "Let me go!" he cried, wriggling. Though he didn't show he had listened at all, once he was let go, all the boy did was pick the sword up and place it carefully back on the counter. He turned to Malik with a huff, arms crossed over his chest.

The _dai_ shook his head. He really couldn't get used to the fact that those golden eyes, used as he was to them being cold, distant… Were now wide open and filled with emotion. It had been a long time since he had seen the master assassin in a state such as now. In fact, the last time they had done anything than bicker was when Altaïr came in the dead of night, and apologized over and over about Kadar and his arm, bags under his eyes, the same bloodshot, hood drawn back.

Malik swallowed heavily as his mind was cast back in the past, to then, to the swirling emotions that had encompassed him and had refused to let him go. It was a terrible time, but he was glad it had happened. Things weren't as strained, and they were almost… Friends again.

_I'm not sure what woke me. All I knew was I sat up sharply in my cot, wincing at the phantom pain laced through my arm. Through parts of an arm I no longer had. Something was going to happen, I could tell. That seemed to be the only good thing this accursed stump was good for anymore. Detecting danger._

_Very slowly, I pushed back my blankets and stood. My back popped from laying on the pillows, but I ignored it, instead picking up a short sword I had leaning against the wall. I didn't want to be paranoid, but I didn't hear a thump of a novice drop through the roof. And anyway, I had closed and locked the lattice up hours before._

_Weapon in hand, my feet made no sound as I practically glided to the main room. What I saw was nothing that I had expected. The blade clattered to the floor._

_Altaïr clinging to the doorway. I don't even know how he got in, that door was only unlocked when I went in and out from the city. That didn't particularly matter, though, as his clothes were absolutely soaked in blood. Nausea hit me at the same time the metallic, terrible scent of it did, lingering at the back of my throat. I couldn't see where it was coming from, and not knowing whether it was his blood or that of others._

"_Al...A-Altaïr…" I murmured, staggering forward, my feet seeming to work just as well as my nonexistent left arm. "What… The _hell _happened to you?"_

_The assassin was silent, and I found myself unable to do much more than half fall on the counter, worry and fear coursing through my veins. His hood was pushed back, revealing dirty, sweat soaked hair, eyes agonized. Breaths ragged, the Eagle of Masyaf stayed still, clutching about himself. A jolt ran through me when I realized the younger was clutching desperately to his arm, much like I myself had nearly a year ago._

_As much as I didn't care what happened to Altaïr (or so I told myself) I would never wish a missing limb on anyone. In a flash I moved again, slipping the basket of medical supplies I had devised to be able to carry all I needed into the crook of my elbow._

_Rounding the counter, I didn't even make to touch him before he fell at my feet. That was when I saw the tears streaking down his cheeks. "I-I'm sorry…" he panted, in pain, a mixture of physical and emotional. "I… I'm so…" I frowned. This wasn't right._

"_...Altaïr?" He didn't have a reason to be sorry. I was almost certain that these injuries were not meant on purpose. Why would they be? And why was he still grovelling before me? It was unnatural, my thoughts careening out of control. Perhaps it was being woken in the middle of the night, perhaps it was seeing him in this pitiful state, and maybe it was because I at last saw his eyes after months of stony and tense words between us, but I found myself dropping to my knees in front of him and reaching out, trying to get him to look up._

_He flinched away, though, hand squeezing his forearm tighter and tighter, the blood oozing out and dripping onto the stones. I felt sick._

"_No… I… I-I'm so sorry, Malik. I… I didn't… I didn't think…"_

_Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. I realized that the bells that surely would have been sounding were not, that there was no running feet desperately searching for the assassin. A thought entered my mind, but before I was able to check and confirm my suspicions, Altaïr moved like a shadow._

_He lurched forward and gripped my arm tight. Blood soaked into my robes as well, and before I could jolt out of his grasp, there was a hilt laid in my hand._

_Eyes widening, I took in the appearance of it. It was Altaïr's favorite dagger. An eagle adorned the darkened hilt, stretching its wings up to become the guard. The terrible feeling in my gut grew, and steadily worse. I couldn't open my mouth in time before he spoke._

_"Take it," he pleaded, voice gravel and harsh and grieved. "Take it. Take _me_."_

_The words slammed into me hard. Did he mean...? How could he think me able to do that? I shook my head furiously. "Altaïr, I can't-"_

_"_Yes_," he insisted. "You can and you will. I… I-I deserve it."_

Somehow, he was able to hold back the gasp that threatened to fall from his lips. No. He wouldn't go there. Not into that memory, not again. He couldn't. But it did bring up one question…

Taking the few steps over he needed to cross the floor, Malik knelt and took the boy's chin in his hand. He tilted Altaïr's head, looking, ignoring the protesting noises. Sharp eyes sought out, and he noticed it then. The scar on his lips was still there. Faded, but still there.

Then that meant the other pale lines on him, drawn across grotesquely, the ones hidden, the ones he could not bear to think about…

_Those_ scars…

It made Malik sick.

**A/N- So…? How did you guys like? And I'm taking a rather dark turn with what I think happened to Altaïr after Soloman's Temple. Those who know me know that I'm going to delving into a lot of the psychological side- the grief, depression, humiliation, and possibly some dependency/almost Stockholm-like symptoms that I can't help but see when dealing with Altaïr, the event, and with Al Mualim. So, the squeamish should look away now! Just because he's a kid doesn't mean I can't have my fun! And actually, it'll be easier to show symptoms, since kids have a harder time hiding them than adults… Fun!**

**Please review!**

**~L~**


	4. Through A Child's Eyes

**A/N- Yay! Another chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

Altaïr spent the rest of the day sulking in the corner. Malik was glad for the peace, only occasionally glancing up to make sure everything was alright. He still didn't know what to think about all of this. It was crazy, it was stupid, and he found himself completely unsure how to proceed forward. What if Altaïr was stuck like this? Would he have to take care of him? Or would he need to send him back to Al Mualim to get this all sorted out?

For some reason, that felt like it would be a mistake.

A slight movement caught his eye. Looking up from his map, he saw Altaïr trying desperately to stifle a yawn, small hand covering as his jaw slacked open. Malik suppressed a chuckle, eyes softening. He had forgotten how sleepy children acted, and it was odd to see the master assassin doing the same.

Altaïr noticed. Yet, he couldn't muster up more than a weak glare, eyes drooping and head tilting to one side. The poor boy really was tired out, and the _dai_ didn't blame him. Between being turned into a child, having new (or rather _old)_ restrictions, and not having any idea how to change back would take a toll on any man's mind, even an assassin's.

Malik let his chuckle slide past his lips this time. Placing another weight on the corner of the map to make sure it could dry properly, he came around the edge of the counter. The child needed sleep, no matter how much he resisted. Yet surprisingly, there wasn't much when Malik took his hand and tugged him to the counter. Back behind the door, Altaïr was then introduced to the _dai's_ sleeping arrangements- almost the same as in the retreat, but just a little more furnished and with blankets and a few candles in one corner. A single window near the ceiling provided the fact that the sun was setting, casting the room in burnt shades, but Malik didn't notice. He had seen it multiple times, and found nothing special of it. Altaïr, on the other hand, was fascinated, and stopped misstep just to watch and take it all in.

After a few moment of trying to get the exhausted child to lay down, the _dai _gave up. He watched with intrigue as the boy kept his eyes on the colors dancing across the stones and throwing shadows on the floor. His golden eyes shone bright with curiosity and amazement. "Look..." he murmured almost reverently. "Malik, look... Isn't it so pretty? ...I like the sun a lot. Most people say I like the night, but I prefer day. Because look! The sun, it makes it so bright like this, and you can see people and places and animals and seas and lands and..." He drifted off, though it seemed he continued in his mind, drifting off down that linear path his small body created for him.

He frowned a little. Altaïr enjoyed the daytime better? That was... Impossible. And yet here was the proof, right in front of him. A few months earlier and Malik would have brushed it off as being because then his assassinations could be noticed by the arrogant fool. But now... He wasn't quite sure.

"...Alright, Altaïr, that's enough," he said gently. "It's time for you to sleep."

The child nodded and slipped his hand from Malik's. Padding over quietly, he pulled the pillows close, and buried himself in them, letting out a content sigh. The _dai_ was glad to see he was asleep within mere moments, and a deep sleep too. That in itself was rare for assassins like them.

_Like Altaïr,_ he though bitterly. _Or Rauf, or even Abbas. ...But I don't think I'll count him._

Even after all this time, he was angry about his arm. Not angry at Altaïr for causing it, but just angry that he had to deal with it and hide away as a _dai_ the rest of his life. It stung terribly. And yet... He couldn't help but mull over what the boy had said. How entranced Altaïr had been over a simple, ever day occurrence.

Something seemed to take over. Turning from the boy without his own will it seemed, Malik shut the door behind him. He headed outside and to the ladder onto the roof, and looked out over the city.

The bustling of the streets never stopped. Even now he heard the yelling of merchants, screaming children, frantic mothers, penniless beggars... Yes, living halfway the poor district and halfway in the middle class district had its problems, but at the moment, the _dai_ did not mind any one of them. For from there he could see out of the walls of Jerusalem.

What he saw stupefied him. The sun was sinking below the horizon, and the sliver that still rested atop clung on, tinting the hills and mountains deep shades, the oncoming darkness approaching. The city's walls and buildings were thrown into alternative shadows and patches of sunlight, streaming through windows and promising the light for a little long of those families. He could just see the blink of the stars beginning, saw the shadow of the moon, and at last, the sun dropped down its final bits.

It had been beautiful, to say the least.

_Oh, Altaïr,_ Malik thought to himself, shaking his head before heading back down and into the bureau to close the retreat's lattice. _You are not as bad as I thought._

The _dai_ settled into the retreat's blankets. He didn't want to go to the backroom and wake up Altaïr, who would no doubt be angry about it. Sure, it would be hard to explain should any novices drop by, but his lattice was closed, and hopefully they would deter without question to another place to stay.

It seemed that Malik had been worn out more than he had thought. Almost as soon as he hit the pillows, he was fast asleep.

NOVICEECIVON

Altaïr found himself wondering just before sleep why the _dai_ had given him such an odd look. He had merely told the truth. Well… Partial truth. The day also gave him time to see Malik, to be with him, for most assassinations now he tried to keep in the dark and stick with the second tenant of the Creed. So now, it was the day that kept him happy and interested.

It didn't make sense why Malik looked so confused and almost startled. But it didn't particularly matter to him. He figured he'd wonder why in the morning. And with that, the boy drifted off to sleep.

_It was… Cold. Cold, and… Damp. No, not damp, but… Wet. Completely wet. Soaking wet. Wet? Why wet? What, why? Wet, that's… That's water… But… It's everywhere…_

_No… No, that means…_

_All of a sudden, it came rushing in. Water, pressing in on all sides, gushing down my throat, bubbles of precious air escaping my nose. No, no! Pain spread in my chest as my body begged for oxygen. Oxygen I could not pull in. What had happened? I don't remember! I can't swim! Oh Allah, I can't swim!_

_Help me! Someone help me! Why can't I scream? The water! Malik! Kadar! Rauf! Someone help me! I'm drowning!_

_I'm drowning!_

_Please, someone help me!_

HANDYYDNAH

Malik woke to the sound of screaming. Heart wrenching screaming, bloody murder screaming. He didn't know what was happening at first, but then…

_Altaïr!_

**A/N- Heehee! Please review!**

**~L~**


	5. Old Fears

**A/N- Wow… This is a short chapter. I'm so sorry, but it was a perfect place to cut it off! The next chapter will be longer, I promise, okay? It'll be worth it, I swear!**

**Enjoy!**

_Altaïr!_

Malik was on his feet in an instant. He didn't think of grabbing a weapon, hoping to _Allah_ that he was alright. He ran behind the counter, through the short hall, and burst into his room. There lay the boy, writhing and screaming still, hands clawing at his throat as though something were constricting, killing.

The _dai_ realized what was happening. He had dealt with this many times with Kadar- only, the poor boy never tried to rip at his skin so vehemently. "Altaïr! Altaïr, wake up!" Dropping beside his knees, he grabbed the child's wrists, forcing them together above his head. With his left shoulder he held him down at the sternum. "Altaïr!"

All at once, the master assassin jerked awake. His eyes flew open wide, gold hues tinted with panic and fear. Deep gulping breaths pulled at his lungs, expanding his chest under the _dai_. Malik slipped off.

No sooner had he done that, however, than had Altaïr launched himself into his arms, sobbing, shoulders shaking. He blinked in surprise. Slowly, his arm wound around the small body. A wet spot soon soaked through his shoulder.

Eventually, the sobs died down. The boy stayed as he was, curled up in Malik's lap, and the _dai_ found he didn't mind it. It was a few minutes more before he pulled Altaïr back gently to look at him. "Hey," he murmured, more softly than he could remember speaking for a long time. "Hey, it's alright now. Shh. You're fine. ...Can you tell me what was wrong?" It hurt to see him with his eyes puffy and bloodshot, lip trembling still and swallowing hard, and his cheeks blotched red. He would never admit to it, but he didn't like to see how weak Altaïr could be. He didn't like being reminded that he was _human_. Strange, but true, and he felt his chest pang at the poor sight before him.

Altaïr sniffled softly and ducked his head fearfully. Malik watched with interest, not knowing him to be shy like this. It was odd, and slightly unnerving. Just as he went to say he didn't need to say anything, the boy spoke. "I… I dreamed I was drowning."

For a moment, Malik didn't know what to say. He knew Altaïr couldn't swim, but… Was he really that terrified about it? And all those times he had been tempted to push him in a stream, or wake him up with a pitcher of water over his face… Swallowing heavily, the _dai_ brought him back into a hug, gripping onto him tight to comfort him as best he could. "I'm sorry," he murmured softly. _I'm sorry for the nightmare, and I'm sorry for what I've wanted to do._

The boy sniffled softly and nodded, clinging onto him. He stayed like that, completely unwilling to relinquish his hold, and Malik finally decided they had to do something. After all, the sun was beginning to rise if the lightening of his window was anything to go by. Yet, he didn't try to move Altaïr, or make him let go. Instead, he stood carefully with the boy in his arms- he couldn't be physically more than seven or eight- and carried him to the other room.

In there, the _dai_ shuffled a few pillows from the retreat into the main room with his feet, and somehow managed to grab onto the basket of breads and fruits he had. Sitting on the floor, Malik gently unwound the child's hands and sat him on the pillows. Despite his usual countenance, he couldn't help but give him a small, reassuring smile.

The tears tracks were still on his cheeks. Malik took his sleeve and unpinned it, using it to wipe away the clinging wetness. "There," he murmured gently, repinning it. He then held out an apple to the child. "Here. Eat- it will make you feel better." He watched Altaïr do as told, biting in carefully at first, and then absolutely devouring it. It was interesting to watch, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The boy didn't even notice.

Leaning back against the counter, Malik realized just how long it really had been since he had last smiled, and not out of sarcasm or spite. He wasn't quite sure what was causing the change. The answer was glaringly obvious, but he refused to admit to it.

Continuing to muse this and watch Altaïr, the _dai_ didn't hear as a scraping sort of sound came from the retreat. He hadn't opened the lattice yet, but someone wanted in. And they were insistent.

At last, Malik noticed and looked up. A frown crossed his features and he reached over, quiet as he could, to pick up the short sword still on top of his counter. Altaïr watched with a surprised, then unreadable expression as the man stood, waiting.

Thud. Footsteps. White.

All the breath rushed out of him at the sight of a novice standing in the doorway. The relief only lasted a few moments, however, before he saw the assassin's eyes grow wide. Cursing, Malik moved to stand in front of Altaïr and block him from view.

"...I can explain."

**A/N- Uh oh. Malik is in **_**trouble!**_** Heehee! I'm starting to get a plot in my mind that sort of goes along with cannon with Al Mualim but not really… Ah, man, I hope this goes over well, but I think I have where I want to go starting to be planned out!**

**Any suggestions, questions, etc are gladly accepted! Also, if you give me an idea for another story, I might just take that, too! Though I don't know when I'll get to it, as I think I want to finish this one first before starting a new fic… But I can try! Heh!**

**Please review!**

**~L~**


	6. Don't Look Away

**A/N- …I am so embarrassed. This is literally so short… Anyway, I will have longer chapters, but not only did I decide you guys needed an update, but it ended at the perfect spot! Sorry for the long wait, but I got sick and was out of doing much of anything for a few days, and then we got dogs! But now that my spring break is over, I have my classes that I can write in back again. So yay! More updates, and longer too!**

**Enjoy!**

"_...I can explain."_

No. No, he really couldn't. What was he supposed to say to this? A child in his bureau was not an easy thing to get someone to understand why they were there. So he swallowed and simply did his best, trying not to let the dumbfounded look of the novice unsettle him.

"I just felt some pity for him," he lied. "He's an orphan boy, but very skilled at pickpocketing and climbing. I watched him. I thought that perhaps the Creed could use another assassin like him. I planned to send a letter to Al Mualim about him."

Malik felt a bit of the worry leave him as the younger man seemed to calm slightly, appeased by the explanation. "Oh. I shall take word for you. I am heading back to Masyaf anyway. Would you like me to take the boy as well?"

The worry slammed back into the _dai_ and he shook his head. "No, no. There is no need. I plan on keeping him here until he is more fit, and then I will send a dove. Life on the streets is hard, and I do not wish for Al Mualim to disregard him for his small frame."

Despite how confused the novice looked he nodded slowly. Who was he to refute the wishes of the Dai? "...Of course," he nodded, bowing slightly. "I came to inform you that I will be on my way to Masyaf before the hour is out. My missions are complete."

Malik nodded, not yet allowing his nerves to show through. "Of course. Be on your way, brother, and may it be a safe journey."

The young man bowed and took his leave, though the confused look still stayed on his face. The _dai_ fell back onto his rear end beside Altaïr. He let out a breath and ran a hand over his eyes, keeping it there for a moment before letting it drop to his lap. He turned and faced the boy. "...Well, that settles it. You can't come out into this area." Altaïr's expression dropped and Malik felt his heart give a pang for the boy. "Only for a little bit, till I can figure out a way to explain you, or turn you back," he added quickly. "It shouldn't be for too long. So come on. Back in my room."

He stood with a sad face. It was hard to control emotions as a child, Malik figured. Even as it was, it seemed what little bit showed was nothing compared to what was going on inside him. It made a sense of guilt light up in his chest as he ushered the smaller into his small retreat.

Altaïr went immediately to the far corner. He sat down and pulled his knees to his chest, arm wrapping around them. The boy's look got to him and Malik sighed softly, turning back to him. "Here. Why don't I go out and grab something to keep you entertained? A puzzle, or something like that?" He watched the other duck his head down a little, but then nod just slightly. "Wonderful. I'll be back soon. Don't cause any trouble. Got it?" Another nod.

The _dai_ nodded and headed out the door. This was going to be a long day.

NOVICEECIVON

Altaïr, in a word, was ticked. He couldn't do anything as a child. He couldn't even be out at the counter with the _dai_, and it was sure to be boring in here. Not to mention like this he couldn't help look for a cure for this. It made him feel rather guilty. Here he was, stuck as a child, and he couldn't even aid in searching for a cure, or _something_ to change him back.

So busy sulking he was, he didn't notice a shadow appear in the door. Even if he had, he had nothing to defend himself with. In an instant the shadow was in front of him, a rag stuffed in his face. His nose was overpowered by a sickly sweet scent, taking place of air. Any attempts to struggle were quickly destroyed.

The smell took the last of his resistance with it. Altaïr's vision went black.

**A/N- Eh? Eeeeehhh? Yeah, cliffie, I know! Hehe, that's my specialty! Again, more chapters to come, and sooner than this one! See you all soon!**

**Please review!**

**~L~**


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